


In the Dark of the Night

by MilloryWishes



Category: AHS - Fandom, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, Millory - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Protective Michael, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 11:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilloryWishes/pseuds/MilloryWishes
Summary: Mallory is keeping a secret in the basement. Mallory goes back in time for Michael after she's made an official Delia, and keeps him hidden at Robichaux's. Mallory deals with her own inner demons. The underworld is not pleased with Mallory's decision.





	1. Devour

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy it, It's not my first Millory fic, but it's the one I meant to write in the first place. BE PREPARED. Smut will be revealed all in due course my darlings!  
> -Also, the setting is Robichaux's Academy, in a basement/cellar (sort of like the room of requirement for Mallory.) and then sometime in the fic we're all going to have to learn how to perform Descensum.
> 
>  
> 
> -It reads better on mobile, the paragraphs are off otherwise.

In the Dark of the Night.

Chapter 1: Devour

He did not have to guess who was at the door. The light and airy smell off her perfume gave her away. He could see her strappy heels at the top of the basement staircase- the moonlight reflecting off of her milky white legs. 

He stared up at them hungrily through the sheer black material of her dress as she descended slowly. Mallory was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

And boy, did He admire the fucking view.

But something about her posture wasn't right. She was grappling onto the rail for dear life. On the last step, She loses her balance and almost plants her face straight into the ground-where his legs were stretched out in front of him. 

At this, Michael nearly lets out a thunderous laugh, but recoils when he hears her mumble an incantation lowly under her ragged breath. 

"Lucerna lumen."

Suddenly the whole room was given a warm light, radiating from a few candles that were lying around.

When she finally came into full view - her face looking very flushed and dewy- the picture became clear. He could smell it, even from behind the barrier spell. Her breath was heavily laced with alcohol. The Fruity undertones wafting toward his nostrils every time she exhaled.

"Well, isn't this a treat." He teased. 

The past few days as her prisoner had been a torment. His wrists were sore and bruised, so much so, that they were beginning to ache. Being shackled to the wall not only restricted his ability to move, but these -The infamous Deveraux cuffs- were bewitched to suppress him, and his power.

He could do nothing but sit on the filthy ground, while the dirt and pebbles pressed uncomfortably against his ass. His situation was slowly driving him insane. But the worst thing wasn't being trapped. The worst thing was having nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to ease his plight. But this. This small intrusion could prove to be the most entertaining thing he could perceive. 

She had never let her guard down around him like this. 

"Shhh." Mallory presses her index finger vertically on her plump pink lips- demanding that he stay quiet.

"You're not supposed to be here." She says faintly.

Michael scoffs. Noting, that alcohol must make her whisper the obvious. She is so drunk off her ass, he can't contain his snarkiness.

"No shit." He barked back, adjusting himself against the rigid stone wall. The cool condensation moistening his back and shoulder blades through the thin material of his bloodied T-shirt. He would have never guessed he’d end up here- in the witch den that was Robicheaux's Academy- but here he was.

She rolled her caramel eyes in response and tossed her long chocolate waves back off her shoulder as she crouched down to his level. He felt a slight pull in the air around them as she neared. The boundary spell she had placed over herself was being put into effect. 

Michael could definitely feel it. The unpleasant weight on his skin keeping him away, like the negative end of a magnet pushing against the positive end. She kneels down to his left, about a foot away, unconsciously crossing what he thought to be the limit of that spell.

The close proximity made him curious, he hadn't seen just how far the spell extended, but sensed that it shrouded them both. 

"Your w-rists..." Michael's sharp blue eyes shot up at her as she spoke, falling at her plump lips. He listened intently to Her words as they messily spilled out of her mouth. “...they're bloody." 

His curiosity was suddenly trumped by a vivid anger.

It was all her damned fault.

She had him this way. She killed him. She brought him back here to a world in which he had never existed. She put him into this wretched body. A body belonging to a time before he had performed any blood rituals to his father- to strengthen its ability. 

This body was merely a precursor, a flicker of what he'd eventually become. 

As he was right now, He wouldn't be able to combat anything stronger than his own basic power and the matching Devereaux cufflink on her arm made sure that he wouldn't be able to combat anything she could ever concoct.

He looks down at his wrists, now painfully aware that Her observation was correct. They were bleeding. 

But what was this? Sympathy?  
He came back from the clutches of time into her arms fully aware of all that had transpired with 'His' world, and Cordelia's wretched coven. Including the way in which she had killed him. 

How dare she pretend that he was of any concern to her?!

"Aren't you supposed to be finding a way to destroy me?!" He seethed. “You obviously didn’t agree with your first attempt.”

Mallory lifts her arm displaying her cufflink, "For now, you live." She answered.

He stayed silent, looking at his shackled hands as he shifted his sore body into another position. The rattling of his chains echoed through the empty cellar. 

The Deveraux cuffs were relics long thought to have been lost. Michael remembers reading about them breifly over at Hawthorne’s school, but somehow Mallory had them in her possession.

The Superius pair- which siphons power from its host-binds the 'captive' wearing the Inferius pair- this set came with a handy set of chains much to her benefit. 

Mallory who was gracefully wearing the Superius pair on both of her wrists- perpetually suffocated Michael's natural ability throughout the day. He noticed, however, that their effectiveness would wane from time to time. Especially when one pair was in close proximity to the other for more than an hour.

Mallory seemed to have noticed this too. Clever witch made sure her visits were kept short so that the cuffs' magic would remain in effect.

But Michael wondered if in this condition, Mallory would still be able keep track. 

She moves closer, still on her knees. She accidentally brushes up his left leg. 

"Sorry." She slurs, and continues to shuffle closer. 

His body tenses, at her touch. Wasn't she afraid? She'd keep herself well enough away every time she came to him. 

But, a drunk witch- was a bold one he supposed. 

"My, You're incredibly trusting while under the influence." His malicious tone sent a visible chill down her spine, and before he could add anything else to that sentence, she petrifies him head to toe with the quick snap of her fingers.

"Torpentes artus!" 

She watches as his arms fall straight down, his bound hands hanging next to his temples. His eyes shifted hastily around the room, and back to her. She double checks that he's completely immobile by poking his leg, and then breathes a sigh of relief when he does nothing in return. "I brought food." She says flatly, and waves a bag at his stoic face, setting it down beside them.

"Be nice." 

He matches her gaze, staring at her from his frozen body with a mix of amusement and betrayal. 

She stands over him briefly -terribly unbalanced- but steady enough to crawl straight onto his lap. She sits herself down on his thighs, using his sore shoulders to balance herself back and forth until she was comfortable enough. She grunts and fixes her dress so that the material drapes elegantly over her smooth legs.

“Ah, that’s betterrr.” she whispers, drawing out her last syllable like a child would. 

What the fuck?! He screams internally astonished at her free behavior. Get off me.  
Get off me.  
Get off me.

Michael's thoughts ran wild. At first He wanted nothing but to choke the life out of her with his bare hands for invading his space, but her delicate weight on his sore, and depraved body was a delicious relief. Her heat felt like a sweet reward penetrating through his clothes, soothing his tender muscles. She moves so her thighs are just above his. And tries her best not to breach a certain area. She stops moving, sitting incredibly still for a moment, her breath so close, he could almost taste just how drunk she was. 

So, A few strawberry 'somethings' is all it takes.

He writhes on the inside underneath her, wanting to shove her off, wanting to savor the inside of her mouth...wanting to please his hungry palate.

His perfectly shaped lips were chapped and pursed into a fine line. Mallory fights the urge to touch them. His cold ocean eyes pierced through her, unsettling her every nerve. She quickly snaps out of the intrusive thought to take advantage of the short time he's under 'paralysis’ and takes a good look at him. 

She notices just how dirty he really is. The grey sweatpants she'd tossed at him a few days ago were damp and full of dirt from the ground. His hands were caked in blood and rust. His face was rugged- smeared with sweat, dirt, and grime. He was a mess. But a beautiful mess. It was almost unfair just how beautiful he was even like this. She notes that Michael's hair, which was shorter than before, was starting to grow over his eyebrows. Her warm slender hand reached up to push away the dark, honey-colored wisps of hair sticking to his forehead. Her long nails lightly graze his cheek and his eyelids flutter slightly under her feather-like touch. She stills again realizing what she's done. There's an uncomfortable silence that fills the cellar after she does this. Almost as if both of them held their breath at the same time.

"You- look like shit." She giggles, breaking the silence. If only this godforsaken room had a fucking mirror. He thought./p> The second he regains full control over his body, He lunges. His head forward, forcing a small scream to escape Mallory's mouth. 

"You're not exactly presentable," he spat. He glanced down at her heaving chest, stopping at the valley between her breasts. 

Her skin was so fair, that the black lace at her collarbone was so distinct against it. He imagines then, her hands clawing at her bloody throat -after he's slit it down to the bone- smearing her crimson paint against the ivory canvas that was her skin. 

He retracts and lifts his gaze, a mix of anger and desire boiling just under the surface of his own skin.

"NOW, get the FUCK off me!" He yells.

She flinches at his thunderous voice, thinking twice about the lines she's crossed with him. But with his arms bound in chains and her weight on his thighs... He could do nothing. NOTHING to overpower her. 

He notices the expression on her face change from a state of shock to something entirely out of her character.

Her hands were on his jawline, then at his warm, thick neck.  
She could fel his pulse quicken under her fingers as they encircle his throat. 

Mallory traces her thumb over his Adam’s apple adding a slight pressure. “Hm.” She coos, adjusting herself on his body, and without hesitation, she straddles him. Both of her legs on either side of his waistline- in seconds. 

He sucks in a fast breath of air through his gritted teeth. Her warm thighs were holding his torso in place as her sharp 6 inch heels scratched him at the base of his spine.

“Fuck!” He shouts. His eyes widen at her. He could do nothing but stare at her sinister smile.

Michael grimaces at the growing pain her tiny hands inflict around his throat squeezing his trachea.

Suddenly, His eyes grow darker, and a similar disquieting smile creeps over his face.

“Go on...do it.” He says pushing his neck into her grip. 

“You killed me once-,” his voice cracks struggling against her tightening grip. “-without a second thought." 

"You could do it again."

Every candle in the room dimmed, and the atmosphere around them turned cold. He surveyed her and the mix of emotions riddled across her porcelain face. Her lips quivered violently.

"Tell me Mallory, has it finally come to you?” he paused.

“The reason why I believed -you -of all people to be so worthy of a world built on chaos?” his crooked smile fell into a straight line.

“I didn’t lie to you before at the Outpost Mallory.”  
She snaps adding her other hand up to his throat. 

“Tell me why you brought me back.” he howled.

She stayed quiet, warm tears spilling out of her. 

“Perhaps you wanted to revel in the glory?” He scoffs, “Tell me Mallory, did you feel any remorse when running me over?”

“I am quite young in this body- just a boy, who knew nothing of his true nature- such a perfect kill.”

“Stop,” she whispers under her breath. “You were wrong about me.”  
"Was I?” he quips. "You are!" She yells back.

“Perhaps you couldn’t live with yourself?”

An unexpected anger bubbled up inside of her.  
“I did what I needed to do, to protect my sisters!” She closes her fingers so tightly around his neck, that her nails begin digging into his skin. “I didn’t hesitate to kill the one reason they’d die.” she seethed.

“And yet…” he rolled his neck against her sharp claws,“...you seem to have taken a huge...step...backward.” His icy blue eyes bore into her, she looks away hiding the obvious tears brimming in her eyes.

His body turns to stone underneath her. “Now, tell me!” he roars.

She turns her face back to him her face striken with hate. "NO!" She wails. "Not until you tell me why!” Michael recoils at her ferocity. She was screaming, wailing out all of her frustrations.

“Why, even after I've killed you, does the threat of impending doom still haunt humanity!" A loud sob tears through her throat. "Whyyyy!"

She can hardly maintain her hold on him, but she doesn't loosen her grip.

His face is riddled with a wonder. He knew not the exact reason why she had brought him back. But that didn’t matter now. All he knew after hearing her was that there was still something in the deck of cards his father delt him. He'd have to wait it out, but at least the die was cast.

For now, he'd deal the hand he's been given. 

"What do you mean?"

His brow furrows, questioning her emotional outburst. Mallory realizes then that she's said too much, and lets go of his neck to wipe her face with her sleeve. He watches as the tears keep streaming down, from behind her hands. He could feel her whole body trembling against his stomach.

His face softens, taking in the beauty before him. The beauty that was her suffering. 

"I-" her voice cracks. “I should-” She shakes her head unable to finish her sentence. He knows that despite her apparent fear, she’s alone in knowing the truth-and that scares her more than he ever could. 

He'd wait for the answer when she was ready to tell. She'd have no one else to tell.

He looks down at her thighs which are still wrapped around him like a vice, and at her face- covered in mascara- the sweet sent of alcohol still lingering within the cavern of her mouth. She’s a terrible mess. A beautiful fucking mess.

She begins to lift herself up using his chest instead of his shoulders, but catches his disapproving gaze. The look was identical to the one he gave her back at the outpost.

"No" He whispers.

She looks at him, and sees something change in his eyes and in his body. He’s not as defensive as he was moments ago. His head is cocked to the side, almost as if he was asking a silent question. 

How could someone be so monstrous and yet look so tragically human at the same time? 

"Mallory." Her name spilled out of his lips like a mantra.

He did not like the idea of her leaving, he did not want to be left alone again, and saying her name was the only way he could get this across to her. 

He wouldn’t beg, despite his urge to do so- in this body- he wouldn't allow himself.

She gives in to his demand and sits back down on his thighs, unconsciously grinding her hips down over his groin.

He lets out a loud, delectable sound, one that makes Mallory forget about leaving. The energy changes between them, and suddenly she's reaching for his face again. His gut clenched, but relaxed when she merely gasped his chin.

There was a slight pressure building underneath her heat making Michael shift uncomfortably. 

She wanted to hear it again. The lower octaves in his voice were actually quite soothing. She grasps his chin forcing his lips to part slightly, and looks straight into his eyes. Something stirred inside of her, she wanted to know what he'd do if she did it again... She rockes her hips slowly over his manhood never breaking eye contact.

Michael raises his hips up against her warmth instinctively. He groans. And she lets out a soft, hushed moan. He felt a pulsing in his crotch. 

Her eyes lock on to his, her hands trail up his chest tentatively over the dried blood on his shirt, to find purchase behind his neck. She runs her slender fingers through his damp hair, concentrating at the nape. 

She moistens her dry lips with her tongue, and suddenly Michael nurses an unquenchable thirst to devour them. He yanks his chains forward, but they stop him inches away from her face. He couldn't do a damned thing to her with out his arms.

Mallory pulls back and notices his frown. There's a silence and then his eyes flit down to her wrists. 

She releases his hair and gets up hastily leaving the cool air to consume the warmth she left behind.


	2. Catharsis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this took so long! I've been dealing with some things. Hope you all enjoy the rest of your holidays! Please bear with me I will get to the juicy bits I promise, but I like to make them suffer first ;) 
> 
> Yea, I think they need to take a road trip? Did I mention that I like old cathedral like churches ;)  
> Let me know what you think in the comments guys!

She's afraid to go down there once again, after last night. But she gathers enough courage to slip out of her room at dawn and rummage though the kitchen for some fresh fruit. She places apples and grapes into a bag and breathes in deeply. 

"What am I doing?"

The door to the cellar creaks loudly, and Michael stirrs beneath the heavy chains. He catches a gimpse of a long flowy gown and bare feet. He quickly straightens his posture. 

He knows It's her.

Not a word is spoken between them. 

She surveys the room and sees the bag of food she'd left behind from last night. What a waste. She flits over to the base of the protection spell and picks it up. His eyes are glued to her every move. She places the old food bag at the base of the staircase and pulls out two green apples from the new one. "If you're hungry-"

"NO." He barks. "You may not have given me anything to eat last night Mallory, but you did feed me." He turns away from her pitiful face. She's visibly uncomfortable. There was something in his tone of voice, it was almost as if her little escapade left him feeling sorry. 

She looked up at him. He was deliberately avoiding eye contact. 

"I was drunk, and that's the end of that conversation." She said sternly, taking a huge bite of her apple. He turns back to face her. "Yes, you were definitely in rare form, Mallory."

She places the apple on the floor next to her, as she finishes the juicy morsel within her mouth. She's had enough.

"You don't get to patronize me." She gets up from her make shift seat and points at him, "I'm the one who brought you back, I'm the one who makes sure that you still get to live."

He rattles his chained hands opening and closing his massive fists. "I prefer death." He spits. She gets closer. "I'm sure that can and will be arranged."

He raises an eyebrow at her, and she knows just where his mind went at that very moment. 

He's goading her, he wants her to act this way-to show her anger- to get something out of her. She raises her cufflink.

"You wanted me to stay because of this, didn't you?" She says. 

He smirks and cocks his head to one side. "And you?" He lets out a long sigh. 

"You wanted... me." He says flatly.

She comes within an inch of the boundary spell that's been up since she brought him back, and traces her index finger down the invisible veil.

Michael feels the stale air leave from around him, as the familiar magnetic push invades his skin yet again. 

He takes in a deep breath- her light airy scent carring over to his nostrils.

Mallory sets her body straight, her long legs teetering on the edge of the veil as it slowly closed behind her. 

His ocean eyes are hellbent on unsettling her. But she stands her ground, placing the 'his' bag of fruit by her ankle.

There was no denying it. Even as he lay in his own filth, she found him dangerously attractive. 

She remembers the way it felt rocking her hips over his manhood, the long walk to her room, and the slickness in between her thighs.

"You're obviously delusional." She spat shaking the thoughts from her mind.

"I seriously doubt that." He replied.

A pained look emerges from behind his coy expression and Mallory tenses.

"What- was the ocassion?" He grunts, crossing his legs giving her his full attention.

She crosses her arms tentatively and leans up against the wall adjacent to the veil.

"You seem like the level-headed type, so why did you suddenly decide to drink yourself into my prison cell last night?" He beams.

She realized then, what he wanted was an answer to what she let slip through her mouth. 

She swallowed hard, the taste of the apple still present in her saliva.

"We celebrated the beginning of the harvest festival." He looked up at her quizzicaly.

"Over by the French Quarter, the full moon-"

"-Coincides with the Autumn equinox." He interrupts. Finishing her sentence. She nods.

"And then, well- we hadn't celebrated Misty's return to the coven."

She watches him, after all, it was his realm from which she was rescued.

"I bet it was easy, retrieving her." He retorts. 

"Those putrescent mongrels who populate my father's kingdom hate me and wanted me dead." 

Of that she was certain, she had them on her side for quite sometime before she decided to return him to the land of the living. That connection was severed now. 

"But now, I'd watch my back-" She hugs her body tighter in response,"-They're vengeful creatures, they live to torture." He smiles insidiously.

She walks closer to him, keeping her arms over her chest protectively. "They must take after you." 

His eyes darken. "You're one to talk, let's not forget who's bound in chains and hindered by ancient relics." He seethes. 

Her heart skipped a beat or two. The cuffs were a terrible but- necessary-secret she hoped to keep from Cordelia. 

It was not easy preforming that spell, and she yet to use the cuffs in any other way.

Michael's mouth falls into a straight line."You must've gone back for these as well." Her eyes narrowed. She had done exactly that. 

She traveled back -in time- to retrieve them, hoping she wouldn't alter anything important, and so far there were no immediate repercussions.

"Tsk. Tsk."  
"Such heavy precautions- I'm flattered." A small chuckle escapes his mouth and echoes lightly throught the basement.

She'd walk through fire to retrieve them again, they were the only thing keeping her sane at the moment.

"I could do without these chains-"  
"-who knows how much further we could've gone last night if I didn't have them."

A spasam contracts down her lower half, making her sqeeze her thighs in response. 

"Fat chance." She quips.

He uses the chains as an anchor and pulls himself up to stand. Mallory shuffles hastily back to her previous position watching him. 

The lound clanking makes her nervous, but a brief glimpse of his smooth skin just above his sweatpants breifly distracts her. 

"Now, why don't we cut the crap before we pile enough of it to drown us both."

She trails her gaze up back to his face lifting her brow at his quick remark.

"The deed was done." He said sternly. A bitter silence falls around the basement. 

"Why?"

She owed him nothing. No explanation as to why he was still breathing. She could leave this room right now and let him rot in his own filth for all she cared, but she just couldn't lie to him. 

"I-I just couldn't-," He takes advantage of her hesitation and pushes for another question. 

"Was it all for nothing?" 

He sees her face turn as white as the wings of a pale dove.

"-So chaos did NOT die with me." He interjects noticing her pink lips quivering violently.

"Answer me!" He raises his voice at her. 

"NO!" She covers her mouth and looks away in shock of her own quick response.

Another more pressing question arises in his throat.

"Do you regret the atrocity you committed against me?"

"Yes." She whispers sternly tears begining to brim in her eyes. He walks his stiff legs over to her trying his best to close as much distance between them as he could. 

She could smell him, a mixture of sweat, dirt, and blood saturated the air around them. It was unbearably intoxicating to her.

"NO." Mallory glares at him. "I don't buy it." His chains rattle in agitation. "You wouldn't put your precious pack of witches in danger again, what changed?"

She can feel him, his desperate attempt to make sense of it all. Her body twitches and he's scared she'll leave again without an answer.

"Tell me why!" He yells.

"I'll tell you EVERYTHING!" She snaps back. 

"I'll tell you WHY I brought you back!" She screams, hoping that the silencing spell she cast was strong enough to contain the emotions that erupted out of her.

"I'll tell you how I did it!"  
"I'll tell you what I did it with, I-"

She stills, looking down at her fists- which are clenched so tight her nails are drawing blood from the sensitive skin on her palms. 

Michael sees the decedent crimson droplets oozing out of her.

She softens her rigid body.

"I was happy," She sighs. "I thought that this world was finally going to be right." 

Her chest is heaving, and Michael inches his head as close as he can to see her face.

She sees this and meets him half way, both of their noses close to touching.

"I hate you for what you did, and if you have any part to play with-" She chokes up forcing the tears back. "-what's to come." 

"Please," he lets out a shaky breath "Continue."

"Look." "I don't know if this was some type of after shock from Tempus Infinitum, but I saw something."

His brows furrow.

"I walked out to our garden, the day Misty returned and the sunlight suddenly turned an awful scarlet color, and the world around me melted away." She closes her eyes and exhales deeply.

Michael listens intently, amused by her obvious distress.

"Suddenly, I'm in a family home and there's blood on the walls." 

"And then I'm back at the garden, but it's been scorched, and the academy is in ruins." 

"Cor- Cordelia is laying motionless on the ground, her throat has been ripped out." He watches as her delicate hands reach up to her own throat.

His mind recalling the warmth he felt from those hands around his own throat just hours ago.

"My sisters." She cries.

She opens her eyes in anger, staring straight at him.

"I thought it was your true face I saw in the distance-" A cocky expression strikes him. He was pleased to know that she still remebered it.

"But when I approached it the face vanished and another appeared." "I felt as if the air was kicked out of my lungs, and I felt a presence much stronger than yours." 

Her apparent anger dissipates. And turns into a remorseful sob.

"It wasn't you." 

Her words pierce through him, causing his chest to ache. What if that facade was true? What did his father have planned-who did she see? He'd have no choice but to stay put and figure things out for himself. 

He watches her then, as she wipes the tears off of her cheeks. 

"I don't know why I went back for you Michael, but I did." He stares at her, trailing his eyes downward.

He could see through her white gown, at her perfectly shaped and silhouetted body shaking through the fabric.

She was visibly scared. 

Michael remembers then, how she pulled his lifeless body from the wreckage, how terrified she was. 

How her porcelain face was a mess, and how her bloody hands and body were trembling just as they are now.

She did lament her decision, but only after seeing this...delusion did she come to bring him back.

He walks back slowly to his original spot. Letting the chains relax at their respective angles.

There is a long pause between them. 

"You don't like unpredictability." He says lowly under his breath. "And you'd rather have the enemy sleeping under your nose, then have them out of arms reach."

She nods slightly.

"Whether you like to admit it or not Mallory, we're not too different you and I."

She scoffs loudly and his mouth turns upwards again.

"I doubt that." She retorts.


	3. Medium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was an extremely short chapter! I'm trying to make the gears turn GUYS. ;)

She felt a stinging around both of her wrists. A panic wracked straight through her.

"Time's up." He whispers.

He gulps and she swears she hears his stomach growl. Mallory sees the way his eyes glimmer up at her and she decides to strike a deal.

"I'll unchain one of your arms-" his eyes light up, and his childlike features betray her, "-if you do nothing to me, I'll leave THIS on your lap too." She picks up the uneaten apple and the bag of grapes.

He nods. She approches him with caution Her hear racing faster and faster. When she gets close enough to him. She sees his body twitch at her touch.

She taps her left cufflink with his and the chain that was clasped to the wall dissapears. She snaps back quickly, as he stretches his arm out twisting his cuffed (but freed) wrist.

He locks eyes with her, and he's perplexed by her soft, caramel eyes, encased by her perfect skin. He fought the urge to reach up and stroke it as he did at the outpost.

"There you go." She says flatly. She then realizes the severity of this move. His power in this body might not be at it's prime but his mind...

"You wouldn't want to try anything-" she spits out. He follows her with a perplexed expression."I'll know if you do." 

She places the brown bag on his lap as promised. 

"When I get back, if I find that you've done nothing to disrupt the order of things, I'll let the other arm down for a turn." He senses her tentative undertones, and he's amazed that she's actually going to leave him like this. 

Oh the things that ran through his mind.

He nods again. "I won't be down for a while," he cocks his head to the side. "I'm still new and-" 

"Will we be having anymore drinks?" He teased. She felt the shame wash over her once more. "No, not unless you decide to ruin everything." She pipes.

He raises his eyebrow and reaches into the bag to pop a grape straight into his mouth. She hears the plump morsel burst under his teeth, 

"Tempting," he closes his eyes savoring the rich fruit, "But I'd rather sit here and enjoy hearing you gripe some more about the end of times... Again." She narrows her eyes at him.

"Besides," He raises his freed wrist -still worn and bloody. "For the time being, I'm still your pet." She nods and turns to leave him again securing all the hexes and spells keeping him in place. 

He watches her climb the stairs one by one unconsciously lifting her gown just enough to give him a glimpse of what he dreampt about over and over since last night.

There was nothing in the bag sweeter than what his eyes feasted on.


	4. Ashes

When Mallory returned above-the morning light was blaring through the academy's windows and the sounds of waking witches scurried down the walls.

She quickly went back up to her room and dressed. A little knock startled her as she connected her necklace, the last and what Mallory considered the most important piece to any outfit. 

When she opened the door she was surprised to see Misty holding up a cup of tea, and behind her-a starry eyed Cordelia.

"Mornin' Mallory." Misty beamed at her.

"Goodmorning." She replied with the same intensity.

They all had shared an awesome time together at the festival, and Mallory grew fond of just how pure Misty and Cordelia's relationship was. They were always together now.

"Mallory, we wondered if you would you like to join us, you see we're on our way to see a dear friend of ours who'll be visiting us tonight but we thought you'd might like to come along for some air." Their warm faces made her feel at ease, but remembering where she just came from and with whom she just conversed with made the feeling dissapear.

"Thank you for the offer, truly, but you both should go and enjoy yourselves." She looks at her supreme who's smile could never be outshined. 

"Are you sure?" Misty said  handing over the steeming cup of tea to her gently. "Whoever they are, I'll be more than happy to make their acquaintance later on." She smiled.

Cordelia nods and then places her hand over Misty's shoulder, "She'll be alright, she's been here a few days now and she already knows the place like the back of her hand." She winks at Mallory. 

"Alright then darlin', we'll be back." Misty strokes her cheek and then slides out of the doorway. Cordelia repeats the gesture and taps the tea "That will prove useful if you still have any symptoms." 

"I'll see you all tonight, refer yourselves to Zoe for anything." She smiles at her tenderly and Mallory has to hold her breath, it's taking a lot for her not to scream and tell her everything.

"Okay." She responds. Cordelia then  heads out, following Misty.

She shuts the door and places the tea cup on her nightstand. Her heart is aching and her fingertips are running cold. She tries her best to shake it off. 

But their happiness is all that mattered to her and the looming thought of chaos and destruction threatened that and everything she held dear yet again. On the one hand, she had Michael who -for now- seemed to be tame, but on the other hand there was this stranger from her vision.

A man who exhumed the same energy that Michael did before she brought him back in this state of being. A man who unlike his counter part was had no remorse or human emotion.

That was another reason she had to bring him back, it was something in his eyes when she'd done what she had to do to save her sisters. It was the childlike fear she'd seen in them that kept her awake at night-and the way he cradled Ms. Mead's head when Cordelia killed her. 

Mallory thought that Michael was the literal embodiment of evil, and he was. Is. 

He doomed humanity, tortured the living, and consumed ritualistic sources. He isn't a good person and she knew that. She knew thay if he was given the chance he would try to formulate another apocalypse again.

But deep, deep, down, no matter how much she, he or anyone wanted to deny it- he still held onto the sliver of humanity he was born with. Even though none of it was actually directed at his fellow humans, it was undoubtedly there. 

The man wearing the demonic face in her vision had nothing, not a scrap of remorse in his eyes. His haunting figure shook her to her very core. 

In her vision he was laughing - surrounded by dark flames and ash. He pointed at her and a horde of the undead apprehended her. She remembers his frightening face reflecting in each of theirs, as he bathed in the ashes of the dead still falling from the sky.

And then He.

She shudders and leaves her room.


	5. Comatose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the long break work has been hell, but I'm going to be adding more asap!! Editing chapters as I go along!
> 
> Also, I know I keep pushing this up but for sure the next chaper will be slightly smutty... Ahem. So keep your eyes peeled people.

The day went on as usual. Zoe taught the basics on nature and how our relationship is symbiotic. When things quieted down, she went upstairs to gather herself. Her bed was so soft, and she was so tired- She did wake up at the crack of dawn to feed Michael.

Her eyes betrayed her and she slipped into the deepest sleep. 

She dreampt about her childhood(of all things) and her grandmother's pale eyes. She stirred, feeling the slightest sting around her wrists. 

Michael observed the noise and the chatter coming from above throughout the day. He was thankful to have at least one of his hands back, even if there wasn't much he could do with it. However, he realized Mallory only used a silencing spell on him, and not on the place itself. So he listened to everything else above ground.

Half way through the day he was able to zero in on just Mallory. Her voice was the only voice he heard- crystal clear-the rest were muffled and tuned out.

She had raised a few eyebrows when she was asked to preform a growth spell-she turned her seed into a small rose bushel, while the others merely upturned a sprig.

Michael laughed at how naiive they were. Of course, he already knew just how powerful she truly was. Idiots. That was child's play compared to what she was capable of.

Just before dark, it got fairly quiet, which made it difficult for him to follow her. But he recognized her soft, sluggish footsteps as they ascended the main stairwell.

Then, he heard nothing at all. He focuses his energy and picks up on her breathing just above his little corner of hell. He could tell by the calm that she was asleep. Moments later he decides to try and channel everything he has project himself upstairs.

He closes his eyes and feels his wrists start to burn. He smirks,  lifting his chained arm to anchor himself up, and suddenly he was in her room.

He sees her and her perfectly shaped body sprawled out on white linen sheets.

"Sleepy little witch." He whispers.

Her eyelids flutter and he stills for a moment watching her stir. He figures that if he could do this much what else was he still capable of? He kneels down next to her and reaches for her wrist. The second his flesh meets hers, the room turns cold and her lights grow dim. Michael can't fathom the power coursing through his body and hers.

Mallory is swiming in the deepest ocean in her dream, the ocean is pitch black like the water she was submerged in back at the outpost. She's out of breath, but she's above water. She reacts to a small figure walking on the surface coming closer.

Michael observes her furrowed brows and the slight moisture glistening above them. He reaches with his other hand and touches her forehead. "Let me in." He whispers lowly. 

As the figure becomes clear, she realizes that it's the man from her vision, and she begins to swim away desperately afraid. She's pulled up by a familiar face. "Mallie?" It's her grandmother's voice. "Mallie!?" She's enveloped by her soft warm arms. "Mallie, who's that?" She's holding onto her as they stand on the choppy water. She snapps her head around to look for the figure, but there is nothing to be seen but ocean. "I don't know." She replies out of her shaking mouth and chattering teeth. She's chilled to the bone, and her body feels numb. "Nan?" Her grandmother slowly dissapears in her arms and leaves her alone. She's screaming into the void, her hands reach up to cover her face, then she's on her knees looking into her reflection on the water.  

She grazes her finger over the surface and the image changes, without warning she's suddenly staring into a child's face. It takes her a minute to realize that it's her own face she's staring at.

Michael searches for her, his body soaking wet from the fall into the ocean. He raises himself up to walk above the water and feels his cuffs start to sear his skin. "FUCK."  
He scours the vast empiness and sees a small figure appear and fall over in the distance. He rushes over, but to his surprise he's met by a small child-a little girl who can't be more than 5 or 6 years old. He freezes when she looks up at him. Haunted by her caramel eyes as they peer through her chocolate, wind swept locks. There can be no doubt, this small creature was Mallory. 

She stands up quickly staggering trying to keep herself from looking down. Tears keep falling off of her rosy plump cheeks, and Michael can't help but stare in wonder. "Leave me alone!" She shouts angrily. Michael ignores the pain he feels at his wrists and walks closer to her. "Go away Mister!" She screams again. He lets a soft laugh escape his lips and then checks his surroundings. 

Such a wild dream, this could be useful. 

When he's close enough to her, he crouches down to her level. "Don't you know who I am, Mallory?" He teases. Her eyes grow wide at the mention of her name. "You ought to be careful Mallory, in this state anyone can easily infiltrate your mind." She looks up at him perplexed. 

"My Nan, says to stay away from boys who are mean." 

"Hmm." He decides to play along with her subconscious and learn all he can. Hopefully when she wakes she'll think nothing of it and release his other arm. "Well, will I be considered mean if I get you out of this place?" Her eyes glimmer and the rough black ocean water stills under their feet. He extends his hand to her with caution. Her tiny hand reaches back grasping at his long fingers. "How?" She pipes as soon as he graps hers in return.

"You're in charge here Mallory." He smiles walking by her side hand in hand. He catches a glimpse of her cuffs which are still present on her wrists as well."You just have to wake up." He squeezes her small hand, "If I wake up, will you still be with me?" Michael glares at her, feeling the unbearable pain spreading from both of his wrists. "No, but you can change that Mallie." He pauses and notices her pained face, she was feeling the effects of the cuffs as well, he kneels down before her once again. "These hurt don't they?" He points to her pair of cuffs. She nods and suddenly he hears something in the distance that takes her attention away from him briefly.

He caresses her rosy cheek and turns her face to focus back on him. "Next time, maybe we can take them off." She looks him over and then gives him one last innocent nod. The noise gets closer and Michael decides to sever the bond. He gives her tiny hand a small squeeze, "Goodbye, Mallie." 

"Goodbye." She whispers. 

He's thrown back into her room- where the source of the noise came from. Someone was knocking at her door. He lets go of her wrist noticing that she had red marks to match. He breathes in and reverts back to his place in the basement. The sun was going down and it's deep orange glow filled his cellar floor. He hoped she would come tonight with no questions about the markings.

Mallory is awakened by loud rapping, and whispering coming from the other side of her door. 

"Well I don't KNOW-"

"What do you mean you don't know Zoe?!?" 

"She's probably asleep!"

"You should've checked on her!" 

"Now now, Delia, it's alright let me-" a few more knocks scatter over her wooden door frame. "Mallory darlin'?" "Are you alive in there?" "Me and Delia are back-"

Mallory jumps out of bed and opens the door. She's met with several pairs of concerned eyes, and Misty's strong hug. "Oh honey!" There was a sense of relief in Cordelia's voice that soothed Mallory's heart. "We thought we wouldn't be able to wake you from your comatose Mallory, are you well?"  
Zoe asks laughing slightly as Misty peels herself off of her. "I'm sorry I guess I must've dozed off."  
"Well that's alright darlin' we have something that'll perk you right up!" Cordiela wraps her arm around her waist moving her forward and closes her bedroom door. "We have a little treat for all of you." Mallory beamed, "What is it?" Cordelia looks over at Zoe and Misty "It's- a surprise, but I can tell you that you'll be properly entertained." "And you're soul will be nourished too darlin'." Misty pipes.


End file.
